Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1887-01-26

into MS tlmld lines:
The possibility of her being old, or
unlovable, never had entered his
thoughts, although the suggestion
had crossed his mind that she might
belong to another, and he felt his
heart revolt at the idea. Hefelt how
ever, that this woman whom he never
had seen held his destiny in that
helping hand of hers, and he loved to
quote Burns to himself in spite of his
non-experience:
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her. and love forever.
Week followed week, and the en-
couraged author had almost forgot
ten that he ever compared himself to
poor Realf, and had designated for
his epitaph the word, failure.
He had been conscious many times
that his love had gone out into the
letters, in his vain efforts to screen his
soul; but as yet she had not been Of.
Tended.
And now she had written that, in a
few days, she would pass through his
village on her way to visit friends IN
the adjoining State, and had added:
GAS | will be obliged to wait lew
hours in your town, | should be hap
Ply to call on you, if you will be at
home"
At home? He would always be at
home when his good angel chose to
bless him with visit, so he replied
that he would be overjoyed to see her.
Since then he had been waiting, and
each day hcd seemed an eternity in
Itself.
He sat in his study, trying TO mug.
ter his thoughts to the completion of
his last sonnet but some way they
were refractory in the extreme, and
could not be managed.
The loneliness of the May morning
beamed in through the open window,
and the fragrant breath of the spring
time stole softly in over the easement
to charm his poet soul into the arms
OF the Muse, but in vain. The arrival
OF every train made him nervous, and
the sound of footsteps on the walk
outside caused him to start. Even
Shakespeare could not have written d
line correctly in this state of excite
ment, he was sure. He threw down
his pen in disgust and kicked his slip
pers across the room in his impa-
thence; then he went over and put his
feet into them, calmly and solemnly,
as if doing penance.
"Only an old friend" he heard some
one say in the hall; OF course it was
the old woman with the book agency
Il, hnI NO
window only a few minutes before, and
had hoped, shelf once, would be kind
enough to go on by; but she had not,
and she always SAID IAN old friend,
to the housekeeper; SO when some one
tapped on his study door, he
merely growled out; Come in" She
did not mind his Neutrality-suspicious.
agents never debut came in, as he
had ungraciously invited her to do,
and he looked up. 1t wasn't old Mrs.
Jones with her gold-bowed spectacles
at all. A quiet-looking lady stood
there with q perplexed look on her
face. at is l." she said, coming for
ward, and holding out her hand.
Have disturbed you by my uncere-
He stammered something, meant
for an apology, as he rose and took
she prOffered hand. She did not mind
his confusion, knowing from the look
in his dark eyes that she was welcome
as the sunshine.
Then this was the woman OF whom
he had dreamed so much-and. per-
haps, in vain. She was not beautiful.
No; but she had a kindly face, and
was lovable. There was wide
awake, tender sincerity in her counte-
nance, he loved. In short, she was
woman, and not man.
What q relief to find she was not
one of the 'fuss and feathers" sort of
women; but, of course, had she been,
she never would have thought of him.
He was prompted to get up and 60
over to the window where she was sit
ting and kiss her for her good sense,
but he did not dare. No, not yet;
may be sometime ne could do that,
but not to-day, much as he wished TO.
She seemed to be looking at him, and
not to see him, he thought.
Was she taking an inventory of his
'den," or was she reading him, much
as professor would a textbook? He
elt q little uncomfortable when those
quiet blue-gray eyes rested for q mo-
nent on HIM, but when he looked at
her, he forgot every thing but the fut-
5er of delight in his lonely soul, and
The lines of Robert Burns:
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her and love forever.
She talked of his literary prospects;
ound much to commend in his en-
leavors, and seemed interested in his
Welfare.
How strange it sounded to him to
nave cheering words spoken in his ten
~ twelve study; the very walls must
nave been surprised, he thought, to
nave caught the echoes of an encourag-
ng voice. But hegrew confident while
;he talked; confident that he could win
md wear the laurel if she never for
sock him.
How quickly the hours had flown
md she was ready to go. He went
With her to the train and pressed her
hand in a little half-irightened manner
1t parting; and she had coored slight
y. but she was not offended.
The cars had gone now, and he stood,
cooking the way she went. She waved
l. goodbye to him with her handker-
thief from the open window and her
kindly face had beamed on him from
beneath its crown of dainty rings of
curling hair, clustering on the full
white forehead.
All, me! the "den" was lonesome
low, and so silent, since it's brief sea,
son of sunshine, coming like the smile
u an angel, and going as goes beau
,iful dream, leaving a tender regret.
There were the flowers she had given
lin; there was the manuscript she had
praised, and her words seemed linger-
ng yet in the room. He pressed the
lowers to his heart to fill the vacuum
which never had been filled as her love
ould fill it, and murmured: 81 will
lelp you"
She had said this and more as she